


all the things we are taught

by evanescent



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Childhood Friends, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Through the Years, Tokyo Ghoul AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6788515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evanescent/pseuds/evanescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By all means, Hajime should be used to people leaving, but when it comes down to <i>this</i>, to waiting for Oikawa full and well knowing he may not be coming back – it stings, it <i>hurts</i> far more than he’d like to admit. Maybe it’s because that’s how losing a best and only friend feels like. Maybe it’s because of the promise he made, to take care of the idiot, and Hajime would like to think of himself as a man of his word.</p><p>Or maybe it’s because, out of all people in his life, he hadn’t expected Oikawa to leave him. For all the complaining and getting angry with him, Hajime has never <i>wanted</i> Oikawa to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the things we are taught

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has been stuck in my drafts since february as a part of a tg au series for hq!! and in theory it was supposed to be "main fic + side fics with backstories" but at this rate it's gonna be more like "backstory fics + and _maybe_ main fic if i get my shit together" so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ don't hold your breath, but keep your fingers crossed, maybe?
> 
> warnings for minor character(s) death(s), some violence and there's a (consensual) cannibalism scene near the end
> 
> now betaed by [marissa](http://kenmasan.tumblr.com/), huge thanks to her!

It’s a warm, summer day when Hajime’s worry finally chases him out of an empty flat onto empty streets.

He knocks on the door to Oikawa’s house, brows furrowed, arms tensed at his sides. It’s Oikawa’s mother who answers, something careful, almost hesitant in her features, but her face brightens when she looks at him.

“Oh, Hajime-kun, I haven’t seen you recently. Come in; Tooru’s eating in his room.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles out, stepping in and taking off his shoes, but lingering in the hallway. “Hitomi-san?”

The woman glances over her shoulder and pauses mid-step. “What is it?”

“My mom went to get food a few days ago and hasn’t come back yet.”

If Hajime thought he was imagining the tension in her posture before, he’s sure it’s there now.

“When was it, exactly?” She crouches down to his level and Hajime can’t help but think this is a testimony to how bad things are. Oikawa’s mother knows he doesn’t like being treated like a kid these days and respects that most of the time, more so than her son, anyway.

“Four days ago.” He takes a breath and continues, “I know it’s not easy sometimes, but… It never takes her so long and there are those rumors, about –”

“Hajime-kun,” Hitomi interrupts him gently. When Hajime looks at her, he’s surprised to find her smiling. “Don’t worry about the rumors, I’m sure Kayo’s fine. You should stay with us for the time being.”

She’s calm and Hajime can’t tell if she’s faking it or just being natural. All he can think about is a simple remark made by his mother some time ago, “Tooru, you know if something happened, you should come to us, right?” Oikawa’s father had ruffled Hajime’s hair with a smile and added, “Well, it goes both ways, doesn’t it?”

“When was the last time you ate?” Hitomi shakes him out of his thoughts and Hajime winces. She chuckles. “I thought so. Go upstairs, Tooru should still have something to share.”

He bows to her since his ten year old self can’t really muster up anything except for another _thank you_. When Hajime enters Oikawa’s room, he finds his friend sitting on the floor, preoccupied with eating.

“You act like you haven’t eaten in months,” he says flatly, instead of a greeting.

Oikawa looks up at him, his kakugan active and blood smeared across his lips. “Iwa-chan!” he calls, flashing bloody, crooked teeth in a grin. “You haven’t been coming over, so I thought you were still mad at me or died.”

Hajime makes a face at that, but he’s not feeling up to explaining himself just yet, so he simply flops down on the floor across his friend. “For the record, I’m still annoyed with you.” Oikawa’s nose scrunches up and he bites his lip, signs that he’s confused and upset. Hajime sighs. “But I guess I can forgive if you share some food with me.”

That visibly cheers Oikawa up and he nods. “Sure, go ahead!”

They eat in silence and Hajime feels the knot of worry and hunger unravelling in his stomach as the rays of the setting sun fall through the window, basking everything in a warm, orange glow; even Oikawa’s posters from shitty alien movies look better in this light. Maybe Hajime wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he feels safe here, or at least, safer than in the empty apartment, a bundle of nerves, waiting and listening for any signs of his mother’s return.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now, Iwa-chan?”

When Hajime looks back to Oikawa, he finds his friend staring intently at him. Frankly, it’s unnerving sometimes how, despite Oikawa’s usual annoying and whiny demeanor, he’s also far too perceptive for an eleven year old. When it’s directed at him, Hajime feels like he’s being read like an open book, and even though Oikawa may not be the best with kanji, he’s skilled enough to get the gist of it.

Knowing all that doesn’t exactly help, though, so Hajime scratches the back of his neck, his other hand clenching and unclenching at his side reflexively (not nervously, never nervously). “My mom’s missing, she left for a hunt and hasn’t come back.”

Oikawa frowns. “The same day we got into an argument?” When Hajime nods, he tilts his head slightly. “Do you think it’s…?”

There are some words that even Oikawa’s scared to say out loud, _doves_ being one of them. Hajime shudders at the unspoken suggestion, but tries not to let it show in his voice when he says, “You know what the rumors said, about the Nakashima family, that they were caught– They live just two streets away from us, if _they_ are snooping around so close, then…”

“The neighbourhood’s getting a little unsettling. My parents are thinking about moving,” Oikawa admits quietly. “I know they talked about it with your mom, too. I guess it’s also kind of suspicious that we don’t go to school anymore, right? After that incident.” He laughs, but it sounds hollow. “Maybe it’s time to go some place else. Maybe a ghoul-only community wouldn’t be so bad, after all.”

“Maybe.” Hajime considers Oikawa’s words for a moment, but shakes his head; it’s too much to take in at once, and it’s not his priority right now. “But… I mean, she might have had a scuffle with other ghouls, over the grounds or something, right?” The image of his wounded mother lying in some dark alley, unable to heal because she hasn’t gotten her hands on food makes him sick, but it’s still better than her stumbling across a CCG investigator. And in a small corner of his mind, there’s a voice saying that perhaps any scenario is more bearable than those ugly, ugly thoughts nagging him in moments like these.

“Like, she wouldn’t just… leave, right?” He knows his voice sounds choked and weak and he tugs at the hem of his t-shirt, even though he shouldn’t; he got it for his birthday just a few weeks ago. “I know I’m a handful sometimes and it’s not easy for her, but–”

“Iwa-chan. Are you stupid or something?”

“Huh?!” Hajime snaps his head up to glare at Oikawa, because if anything, that’s _his_ line. But Oikawa’s leaning forward, kakugan inactive and the remains of blood wiped away; instead, there’s a gentle, genuine smile on his face as he circles his hand around Hajime’s wrist and pries his fist off of his shirt.

“You should be ashamed for thinking so little of your mom, and yourself, too, for that matter. I mean, do you know how often I hear my mom telling yours stuff like, 'Oh, Hajime-kun’s such a responsible and reliable boy for his age, so mature, unlike Tooru'? Dad agrees with her. Which is stupid, by the way, because it basically means you act like an old, boring adult.” Oikawa scrunches up his nose; Hajime can see that the summer sun’s brought out his freckles. “Your mom loves you a lot,” he continues after a moment, his voice quiet but steady all the same. “Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

Hajime lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; his shoulders hunch and he’s simultaneously feeling reassured, embarrassed at himself, and irritated because Oikawa’s right, this time around.

“Yeah, I know, it’s just…” he trails off, not finishing his thought; he doesn’t have to, since Oikawa knows. “Anyway… thanks. Or something, I guess,” he mumbles out, his gaze skittering to the side.

He practically _feels_ his friend break into a grin. “Gee, Iwa-chan, you’re inept even with your thanks, aren’t you?” Hajime swats his hand at Oikawa, but there’s half of the usual force and intent behind it, so he dodges easily; instead, Oikawa gets up, dragging Hajime up with himself by the wrist he still has a hold around. “Come on, let’s go outside, we can still play volleyball in the yard before it gets dark!”

Hajime lets himself be dragged out of the room and down the stairs, appreciating the idea; spending the last few days in a tiny apartment made him antsy. Still, he can’t help himself from pointing out, a little amused, “You got some blood left right on your front teeth, you know.”

“Eh! Gross!”

They go to play, jabbing at each other and laughing; Hajime is smiling. Later, even the mood downstairs isn’t as strained or tense as he thought it’d be; Oikawa’s father, Yuzuru, cracks some jokes that have everyone cringing with secondhand embarrassment, yet chuckling all the same. So when they lay down to sleep and Oikawa says this his mother will probably come tomorrow looking for him, safe and sound, Hajime almost believes him.

…

The following morning, Hajime is the first one to wake up and he can’t shake off an uneasy feeling, attributing it to a bad dream. Then, however, he hears someone knocking on the front door of Oikawa’s household and his barely awake mind snaps into focus as he gets out of a futon laid down on the floor in Oikawa’s room. He goes straight for the window, his mind absentmindedly registering it’s still pretty early, far too early for someone to come on Saturday morning, but Hajime pays these thoughts no mind, as he leans over the window frame to look down at the front, stupidly hoping to see his mother standing there –

But instead, he sees two men dressed in long, white coats, briefcases in hands, and Hajime’s breath hitches in his throat.

Somewhere behind him, Oikawa stirs awake at the insistent knocking, words slurred as he asks, “Huh, Iwa-chan? Is someone at the door?”

Hajime’s mind is in shambles as he hears muffled, “Coming, coming!” and Oikawa’s father, most likely unaware, opens the door. Hajime must have made some kind of a choked noise or perhaps one of the investigators has freakish intuition because he glances up, at the window –

But Hajime doesn’t have time for this. He swirls around, now fully awake and focused, and despite his heart hammering in his chest, he’s calm when he tells Oikawa, “Get out of the bed, it’s doves.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen and he pales visibly, but Hajime can’t let the panic settle in. “Quick, grab some normal pants or a shirt, and put on shoes. We’ll quietly go down. Maybe they just came to talk and investigate, or something.” He doubts it; it’s eerily quiet.

He finishes tying his shoelaces when the illusive peace downstairs seems to be broken; something breaks, a thud and a shout follow. He and Oikawa lock eyes for the briefest of moments. Plans of quiet and careful approach are out of the window as they run out of the room. Hajime thinks he’s never descended the stairs in a such short span of time; they practically leap the steps down to the hall, stopping short in their tracks there.

Both of Oikawa’s parents have their kagune out; Yuzuru’s using his sturdy kokaku as a shield, hissing as he holds his other hand against the wound on his stomach, while Hitomi’s rinkaku glows in vibrant violet as the tentacles strike at the man at the front. They have their weapons in hands, too ( _quinques_ , Hajime’s brain supplies), and, after a few seconds, the attacked dove fends off Oikawa’s mother’s kagune with something akin to ease, proceeding to swing his sword in the limited space of the hall, cutting down at her kagune. She shouts in pain as one of the tentacles falls down. Next to Hajime, Oikawa frantically screams, “NO!” moving to dart forward, but Hajime grabs the back of his shirt when Oikawa’s father spreads his kagune to the side, as to protect them, and calls, “Don’t come closer!”

The dove with the sword, a tall man with ash brown hair in his thirties, glances at them; his expression is strangely open, somewhat caught off guard. “So they indeed were upstairs. Good call, Ukai-kun,” he tells the other, younger man with blond hair, holding something like a roll. The dove’s mouth twists slightly and he sighs, sounding resigned as he says, “They’re about my son’s age. This is going to be ugly.”

“So why the hell did you come!” Hitomi hisses as Satoru braces his kagune against the sword coming to strike at him. The man groans and, to Hajime’s disbelief, starts sagging down; kokakus are supposed to be the most steady type, a good defense, and Hajime knows that Yuzuru’s kagune isn’t to be taken lightly. For this dove to be bringing him down like this, he must be stronger and more experienced than he looks.

Hitomi moves to attack again, despite her injury, but then the younger investigator comes forward. He withstands the strong lash of her kagune with his quinque, but she manages to swipe at him and send him crashing back to the doorstep.

“Ukai-kun!” the other man calls, but makes no move to check on his partner, eyes trained on the man in front of him, brought to his knees. Hitomi takes this chance to speak, straightening her hunched self, even if only a little.

“Boys, leave and run right now.”

“No way I’m going to–” Oikawa snarls, tears streaming down his face as he’s struggling against Hajime’s grip.

“Tooru,” Hitomi says, her voice ordering yet almost gentle, so unfitting for the situation. She glances over her shoulder at them, kakugan blown dark and wide. “We love you, so please go.” She smiles sadly and her gaze moves to Hajime. “Please take care of him, would you, Hajime?”

He briefly thinks about his mother, about the last smile she gave him after a quick kiss on the forehead on the day she went out, only to never come back again. He wonders if she died, all alone, at the hands of these doves or someone else. Was she scared, for herself, and for him.

Hajime just nods, not averting his gaze despite how glassy his eyes feel. Hitomi looks relieved, maybe even peaceful, but the moment doesn’t last as the sword slashes through her torso from the side.

“I don’t like cleaning the wards, but a job is a job,” the dove states as Hitomi crumbles down at his feet. “Get up, Ukai-kun, we’re not done here,” he adds, his eyes flickering to weakly wheezing Yuzuru and them, but Hajime doesn’t wait for his move. With a violent surge of strength, he yanks Oikawa by the wrist and runs for the back door, doesn’t turn around once they’re outside to see if they’re being pursued, doesn’t spare a glance for the volleyball laying in the yard they were playing in yesterday.

And even if Hajime has to drag Oikawa with him, taking detours here and there as his friend’s screaming and pleading to let him go back, and people they come crashing into look at them like they’re mad, and even if it hurts to breathe and Oikawa’s crying turns into sobbing and silent passiveness which, somehow, is worse, and even if there are hot, blinding tears falling from his own eyes – even if all these are the case, Hajime is someone who doesn’t back away from the promises he’s made.

And so, they run.

…

Oikawa’s brother, Houtarou, seems uncharacteristically excited as he rocks back and forth on his heels, exchanging bright smiles with his wife, Aki.

“Tooru, Hajime, we’ve got news for you,” he says and even his voice sounds bright.

Hajime and Oikawa exchange mildly amused glances before the latter props his elbow on the kitchen table and leans his chin into his palm, asking, “What’s got you so happy, onii-san?”

“Aki is pregnant, we’re going to have a child!”

Come to think of it, Hajime shouldn’t be so surprised – perhaps Houtarou and Aki have been hinting at starting a family during the two years they’ve been living with them; they’re healthy and young, financially and materially stable, blending into human society as well as they can, being ghouls – so that’s probably the reason he’s caught off guard, blinking blankly at them. As perceptive as Oikawa is, he seems taken aback by this revelation, too, but there’s also something else to the brief shift in his expression; it comes and goes, and then he’s smiling, wide and genuine, as he gets up from his seat and lightly skips to the couple.

“That’s amazing! Oh god, I can’t believe it – Wait, it means, I’m gonna be an uncle!” He whips his head to give Hajime an astonished look. “Iwa-chan, I’m going to be an uncle. Holy shit.”

“Tooru, watch your mouth,” Houtarou scolds, but he’s smiling as Oikawa shushes him and wraps his arms around Aki.

Hajime rolls his eyes. “Don’t expect me to congratulate _you_.”

“Aw, Iwa-chan, don’t be a spoilsport, you’re gonna be an uncle, too!”

“Well, Tooru’s right on this,” Aki muses out loud, eyes crinkling at the corners. “When it comes to family, the more the merrier, hm?”

Although belatedly, Hajime also stands up and walks closer to hug both Houtarou and Aki. He tells them, “That’s great, I’m happy for you,” and he means it.

The evening finds them hanging out on the stairs leading up to an old shrine near the forest as they watch the sky slowly turn from reddish pink to dirty violet.

“I still can’t believe it,” Oikawa mutters under his breath.

“You’ve said it like, four times in the past twenty minutes,” Hajime informs him, amused.

“Well, yeah, but I just didn’t expect it now! I mean, I knew they were doing – you know,” Oikawa flushes bright red at the implication, throwing his hands up, “but they have never really talked about it outright, a kid and all that stuff.”

“I suppose it’s not that weird,” Hajime says, arching his head back to look at the sky. “They’re married and love each other, so I guess it’s natural for them to want their own family.”

Oikawa only makes a _hmph_ sound as he hugs his knees to his chest, circling his arms around them and putting his chin on them. For a minute or two, they remain silent, until Hajime decides to speak up.

“We’ll have to leave.”

He realized what that shift in Oikawa’s face at the table was, mostly because he himself came to that conclusion soon enough. From the corner of his eye, Hajime sees his friend tense, before he sighs and lets out simple, “Yeah.”

Hajime still remembers – will never forget, probably – that day two years ago when he dragged himself and Oikawa to his brother’s doorstep, somehow still managing to stand after hours of running and getting around; he remembers Houtarou’s shaken expression as Oikawa all but collapsed into his arms and Hajime was only able to whisper, “I’m so sorry,” before his body gave out and he collapsed from both physical and mental exhaustion.

He’d like to think they got better – no, he knows they got better, mostly thanks to Houtarou and Aki’s help. They took them in, even if that meant drastic changes in their lives and threatened their safety; they told them the rules of living in their ward and talked about how things look in the others; they taught them how to haunt with minimal risks or get food in other ways and how to have better control over their kakugan, so they could start going to school again. Hajime knows that if it weren’t for them, they most likely wouldn’t make it that far, or they’d end up somewhere they wished they were dead.

“We don’t have to leave right away, though,” Oikawa states after a longer moment, rubbing his cheek. “I mean, considering everything, we should help them out in next months, and maybe after the baby is born… They’ll need help.”

Hajime makes an affirmative sound. “Maybe after we graduate from junior high?”

Oikawa bites his lip, thinking, and eventually nods. “Yeah, I suppose it’d be fine… That’s still plenty of time!” he exclaims suddenly, his smile laced with insecurity and doubts.

Rationally, Hajime knows that Houtarou and Aki would be mad at them for even considering leaving before they finish high school, and would continue to support them even after that – and precisely, that’s why they need to leave soon. Those two should focus on taking care of their baby and continuing to stay out of the CCG’s radar. Hajime wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to Oikawa’s brother and wife because of them. They live a different kind of life than their parents had – while the latter chose to live more on the outskirts, with few ghouls and even fewer humans, Houtarou and Aki blend in within the society, having graduated universities and found jobs, living in quiet suburbs. They have far too much too lose, especially with the kid coming into the picture.

Besides, Hajime knows they can’t avoid the real world forever. So he leans back and flicks Oikawa’s forehead, making him yelp and snap out of his depressing thoughts.

“We’ll be fine,” he tells him, not leaving room for argument. “We’ve learnt a lot from them and we still have time. As long as you won’t be throwing tantrums and neglecting looking after yourself, I think we can do okay on our own.”

“So harsh and yet so reassuring,” Oikawa muses, a small but sincere smile dancing at the corners of his lips. “Iwa-chan, you really act like my mom sometimes.”

“Don’t be annoying,” Hajime says, clicking his tongue. He gets up and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Come on, let’s go back.”

As they make their way back home, Hajime recalls the incident just a few months into living with Houtarou and Aki. It was the middle of the night when he woke up to Oikawa crying and tossing in his sleep in their shared room. Hajime was accustomed to nightmares now, so he shook his friend awake, reminding him he’s safe, he’s fine, but Oikawa was still wheezing when he choked out, “I miss my mom, Iwa-chan, I miss her so much–” and Hajime felt helpless, because he, too, missed both his mother and Hitomi, yet he knew that simple, _I know_ , wasn’t going to be much help. So instead, he pointed to himself and said, not giving it much thought, “Geez, alright, I’ll act as your mom now! After all, I promised her I‘d take care of you and stuff.” The look Oikawa gave him in return, with watery eyes and snotty nose, suggested another fit of crying and Hajime braced himself, but it never came. Instead, his friend started laughing, laughing so hard that he flopped back onto the bed. Wiping the tears away, Oikawa told him, “But Iwa-chan, there’s no way you’re even half as pretty as my mom.”

Hajime didn’t feel bad for punching him in the stomach at that remark, but that was the moment when he thought their raw wounds would start healing and fading into aching scars.

 _Yeah, we’ll be fine_ , he thinks to himself, only half listening to Oikawa talking about ideas for Houtarou and Aki’s child’s name. _As long as we’re together, we’ll be fine_.

…

There are two things Hajime knows: Oikawa’s the most important person to him and they argue a whole lot.

The second fact isn’t something new or surprising; he supposes different personalities are at least partly responsible for their often clashes; their views on various matters, albeit usually similar, occasionally vary. Sometimes it’s all it takes for a discussion to turn into a full-scale argument where they use insults instead of punctuation, all harsh words and angry shouts, never really meant to hurt another, or at least, not deeply. Sooner or later, one of them caves in, tired of the strained mood, whether it’s Hajime, waiting for Oikawa to come back under their only clean blanket with a cup of coffee, or Oikawa hugging him from behind and whispering a quiet apology between his shoulder blades.

Even so, Hajime wouldn’t dare to call it a pattern – at least, not until the day the said not-pattern is shattered to pieces by their own hands.

He isn’t sure what started the fight in the first place – he thinks it was about Oikawa’s idea of joining local ghoul group during their assault on a pair of doves snooping around lately – and he sure as hell has no idea what they’re arguing about now. Normally, that’d be a cue for Hajime to pause and reflect on the matter, making him come to a conclusion that they’re idiots and walk away to avoid worsening the conflict.

This time, however, he apparently can’t keep his mouth shut because rage is apparent in his voice as he shouts, “Just stop being a fucking idiot and think about the consequences first! You act all high and mighty, but we’re still teenagers, Oikawa, and we aren’t strong enough to take on high-ranking doves _or_ other ghouls for that matter!”

“And whose fault is that, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa sneers, his scleras wide and black, red irises flashing dangerously. “You barely want to take any risks and didn’t you say that this is _the real world?_ ” he taunts. “We can’t continue just the way we are. Have you forgotten what it brought over my parents and your mother?”

Hajime grits his teeth because _how could he_ ; Oikawa says that to rile him up and sadly, it’s working. “If you want to throw away everything your parents gave you, including the chance to live, for revenge, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I don’t–” Oikawa starts, but he doesn’t finish his thought; instead, he laughs, dark and taunting. “You know, Iwa-chan, I don’t think this is gonna work out like that anymore. Maybe I should leave, like everybody else.”

What they have already said is bad enough on its own, but at the age of seventeen, Oikawa deliberately crosses the line he’s never touched and Hajime feels something close in his throat, and he thinks he’ll either say something equally horrible or start crying.

“So go,” he utters finally, barely recognizing his own voice; it sounds cold and detached. Maybe if he paid enough attention, he’d notice the twitch of Oikawa’s mouth, almost like he wants to say something, maybe. “See if I fucking care, asshole.”

They stand there, staring at each other without really looking, and Oikawa just turns around and disappears into a labyrinth of alleys. Hajime keeps himself composed for a moment longer before doubling over, feeling sick and upset in ways that itch under his skin. Not regretful, though; he can’t let himself already regret this when Oikawa clearly doesn’t give a damn.

Unshed tears prickle in the corners of his eyes, anyway.

…

It’s a week later when Hajime first thinks Oikawa’s really not going to come back.

He’s sitting in their empty apartment – or, to be more exact, a ruined studio flat; they left one of the ghoul communities a few weeks ago and had to settle for this for the time being – drinking Oikawa’s terribly extravagant Arabic coffee and pondering new cracks in the ceiling to keep his mind occupied. It doesn’t really work.

Almost a year after Hajime was born, his father left. Kayo, his mother, never spoke ill of him, rather with a dash of bitterness. He claimed providing for her and the baby was too much for him and he had his own matters to take care of. He let them stay at the house that belonged to his parents, but they had to move out soon anyway, as his mother’s job wasn’t enough to cover all the expenses. That’s how they ended up in their cramped apartment, just a few minutes walk from Oikawa’s household.

He doesn’t remember his father and he doesn’t think it’s much of a loss. The man didn’t leave Hajime anything of a reminder – he has his mother’s family name, her rinkaku kagune and thick, black hair – save for his green eyes, as his mother once said. This absence, however, carved itself into his brain, making a way for abandonment fear, creeping up on him when he’s vulnerable, trying to convince him that he’ll always be alone.

Come to think of it, waiting for his mother to come back years ago, he was staying in a tiny flat, too; that thought makes Hajime’s mouth twist with something sour. He thinks it tastes a lot like regrets.

Kayo didn’t come back and although they haven’t been able to confirm her death, Hajime was never stupid ( _naive_ ) enough to cling on to some ridiculous hope, not after what happened to Oikawa’s parents. Houtarou managed to find out that the CCG had been conducting an operation to clean up their ward and someone, probably from the Nakashima family, spilled the beans about other ghouls living in the neighbourhood. It was as simple as that; one event that triggered the collapse of life as they knew it.

By all means, Hajime should be used to people leaving, but when it comes down to _this_ , to waiting for Oikawa full and well knowing he may not be coming back – it stings, it _hurts_ far more than he’d like to admit. Maybe it’s because that’s how losing a best and only friend feels like. Maybe it’s because of the promise he made, to take care of the idiot, and Hajime would like to think of himself as a man of his word.

Or maybe it’s because, out of all people in his life, he hadn't expected Oikawa to leave him. For all the complaining and getting angry with him, Hajime has never _wanted_ Oikawa to leave.

And he can’t say for sure that’s what Oikawa wanted, too.

…

It takes another week, but he gives in and calls Oikawa’s brother.

“Hello?” Aki’s voice comes calm and steady through the static, and Hajime isn’t sure if he’s glad or not that she’s the one who picked up.

“Uh, hey.”

“Hajime!” She sounds happy to hear him and Hajime leans his forehead against the cold pane of a public phone box. “It’s been way too long since you last called.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He chuckles apologetically. “How have you been? How’s Takeru?”

“We’re fine, thank you for asking. Recently, I have come back to work, part-time, but still, it’s a start. Takeru’s getting very talkative and quick on his feet.”

“Really?” Hajime smiles at that. “Being a handful?”

“Well, a little,” she admits mildly. “But we wouldn’t have him any other way.”

He grumbles in reply, wondering if he should sugar-coat around the matter or just ask bluntly. Before he decides, Aki speaks first.

“Say, did you and Tooru have a fight?”

Letting his breath fog the glass for a few seconds, Hajime remembers that, for all her kind and bashful nature, Aki isn’t the one to beat around the bush.

“Yeah, we did. How did you know?”

“Well, Tooru called a few days ago, all chirpy and chatty, and when I asked him the same question, he denied it and hung up,” she states, matter-of-factly. Hajime chuckles; that sounded like Oikawa.

“You argue all the time, though. How was that one different?” Aki inquires after a moment.

“I don’t…” He swallows the bile in his throat. “I don’t know how to fix this one. I don’t know if we can.”

Aki hums. “Houtarou and I don’t fight often, considering our personalities, but when we do, it gets ugly sometimes,” she says. “Makes me think all the hassle isn’t worth it and there is so much more we could be doing instead, but the heat sometimes gets better of me and I say things I regret almost as soon as they come out of my mouth.”

“Aki, we aren’t married like you and Houtarou, it’s different,” he huffs out, even if a part of what the woman just said reasons with him a little too much.

“Does it really matter? Tooru’s the most important person to you, isn’t he? It’s mutual,” she continues, not waiting for his answer. “Sometimes you need space and time away from each other to think about stuff. It’s normal, it’s fine. The point is to seal the distance and clear up the differences before things go sour. That’s all there’s to it, really.”

Hajime sighs. “You make it sound so easy.”

She laughs. “It’s not, believe me, I know.” Aki pauses for a moment. “You should come over for coffee, Hajime. We’d be happy to see you, I’m sure Takeru misses his favourite uncle, too.”

“If Oikawa heard you say that, he’d be sputtering nonsense about lies and betrayal,” he comments with a bark of a laugh.

“Well, what he can’t hear can’t hurt him, right?”

 _If only you knew_ , Hajime thinks bitterly.

“I will think about it. Thank you, Aki. Give my greetings to Houtarou,” he says before ending the call. As if to spite him, the sun comes out from behind the clouds.

…

Months later, Hajime stumbles across a dead dove and takes his mobile radio.

The ward he’s currently in is a mess; two groups are fighting for dominance, both comparable in power and unyielding, making the whole matter ugly and impossible to be ignored by the CCG. The area’s been flooding with the doves lately and Hajime thinks it’s high time he got moving somewhere less violent; he had his fair share of run-ins and scuffles with other ghouls, though he’s been successfully avoiding investigators – well, until now.

The dove hasn’t been dead for long, Hajime concludes, inspecting the body from up close; the smell of blood is strong and tempting, even though he last ate not even a week ago. He shakes his head, knowing that the last thing he should do in his current circumstances is to pry on a body of an investigator. Instead, he brings his kagune to destroy a briefcase laying near the dumpster; apparently the dove didn’t even get the chance to use it. He’d have walked away right then, but a strange sound catches his attention – a stream of words through the static.

Leaning down and pulling the tails of a blood-soaked coat open, Hajime finds a mobile radio, still turned on. He eyes it suspiciously, wondering if he should touch it at all, if only to say, _Sorry not sorry, dude is dead_ , or something like that, but it doesn’t sound like someone’s trying to get in touch with the dove. He shrugs and tugs the radio under his jacket before walking away from the unfortunate alley.

Later that evening, sitting on the roof of some house meant for demolition (not the best place to hide yourself from the cold wind, Hajime admits), he hears about that dead dove, Rank One whose name was Tashiro Hidemi. The channel’s quiet most of the time, probably used to distribute announcements for investigators in this particular area. Before falling asleep, Hajime wonders if some ghouls would like to exchange information for this mobile radio.

Exactly three days later, the ward’s on fire. Literally and figuratively.

Hajime isn’t sure who set the fire, whether it was ghouls or CCG, and if they really meant for it to spread through the area, but he sure as hell doesn’t plan to stick around to find out. He has a mask slung around his face, a fancy one designed to imitate some kind of a snake; he picked it up a few weeks ago from some dead ghoul after his own got ripped during one incident. His clothes smell of smoke and iron, and Hajime pauses in some shortcut to catch his breath and look up at the sky; hopefully, it’s about to rain any moment now.

The radio, something he almost forgot is still in his possession, has been going on and off with new info for the investigators. He pulls it out, ready to smash the annoying device, but then, a certain announcement catches his attention.

“ _…repeat, there was a reported encounter around the bridge with an unclassified ghoul, estimated A+ ranking, rinkaku, male, around eighteen years old, seemed heavily wounded, but remain careful if engaging…_ ”

His grip around the device tightens, knuckles going white. Hajime feels as if his body’s moving on its own as he leaps back on the street, into the direction he came running from just now. The bridge’s barely visible in the distance through the puff of smoke.

The reason Hajime is in this god-forsaken ward in the first place is because the rumors he stumbled upon while looking for Oikawa led him here. It was hard to get wind of him; if Oikawa wanted, he could be stealthy and quiet, not leaving a trace like a ghost. But once Hajime heard a thing or two, he just needed to follow the trail, which was messy, to say the least. Actually tracking Oikawa down, however, proved to be difficult.

Apparently today this was about to change, if only Hajime gets there first.

By the time he makes it to the river, it’s started to rain, cold and heavy drops against the remains of fire. Hajime slides down the bank, searching intently for any traces. His feet bring him under the bridge and that’s where, on the cold stone, he spots a silhouette of a person.

The distance’s closed in the matter of seconds; the next moment Hajime knows, he’s dropping to his knees, ready to roll the person on the side or back, but his hands come to a halt, estimating the damage. Most of clothes are torn, revealing older, not-fully healed wounds as well as the ones that are fresh, still bleeding and festering. Hajime is no expert, but he can tell some of them were made by quinques while others by different kinds of kagune. He sees red for a moment, but then he hears a barely audible moan.

“Oikawa,” Hajime calls, doing his best to be gentle as he turns Oikawa's body over on his back, supporting the weight with his knee and one hand while the other goes for an unrecognizable mask. “Oikawa,” he repeats, just a little bit louder and maybe a lot more desperate as the damaged mask falls into shreds under the touch of his fingers and his friend’s face comes into view. Hajime thinks his features hardened over the past few months, briefly recalling soft angles; they’re gone now, but Oikawa actually looks younger at this very moment, with pale, bloodstained cheeks, heavy eyelids and broken eyelashes pointing at bags under his eyes.

Through his choked throat, Hajime says, “ _Tooru_.”

Oikawa’s eyes flutter open and it looks like he’s struggling to focus his gaze. “Iwa-chan…?” he croaks, livid lips barely moving.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he confirms, lifting his mask up. There are a lot of things he could say (plenty of them stupid like, _how are you feeling_ ) and a lot of things he needs to say (many of them rude like, _you fucking idiot_ ), but just a few he really wants to say (probably something corny like, _I missed you, you asshole, don’t you dare to die on me now_ ). In the end, he settles for, “Your wounds aren’t healing.”

Oikawa winces. “I haven’t eaten recently…” he mutters, like Hajime didn’t get that much from the current situation.

“Idiot,” he barks at that, voice quivering as his shaking hand comes to brush Oikawa’s bangs out of his face; his hair, longer than before, is damp and sticking to his scalp. Hajime tries to focus – the doves will be here, probably sooner than later, Oikawa’s condition’s very bad since even rinkaku regeneration isn’t kicking in like it should, _what is he supposed to do –_

“Hajime.” Oikawa’s hand comes to grasp at Hajime’s, hold limp, but insisting. “I’m sorry, Hajime, I fucked up big time now… I bit more than I could chew, apparently.” He chuckles, but it only gets him to cough up blood. “I regret leaving and using my pride as a reason not to come back… And about what I said back then… I didn’t mean it, I’d never mean it like that– I’m so sorry–”

“Stop talking,” Hajime tells him, the corners of his eyes burning, but he refuses to lose hold of himself. “You’re gonna properly apologize when we get out of here.”

Oikawa smiles weakly. “Iwa-chan, I didn’t peg you for a baseless optimist.”

The rain’s not letting up, Hajime thinks, glancing at the turbulent river. By the time he managed to get Oikawa somewhere safe and with food, even without any disturbances on the way, he’d be as good as dead.

They didn’t really have a choice to begin with.

Oikawa wheezes out in pain when Hajime brings him up to a sitting position, shoulder to shoulder. Hajime removes his jacket and t-shirt, wincing when cold, damp breeze prickles his exposed skin, making goosebumps run down his arms.

“Iwa-chan? What are you–” Oikawa sounds puzzled, until he realizes, and inhales sharply. “No, we’re not doing– I could never–”

“Tooru,” Hajime interrupts, resting his forehead on Oikawa’s relatively uninjured shoulder and softly breathing out against the hollow of his neck. “There’s nothing else we can do. I’ll be fine, I trust you.”

A few erratic beats of his heart later, Oikawa’s mouth brushes against Hajime’s collarbone, teeth barely catching on skin as he says, “Okay.” His nose remains pressed in the crook of Hajime’s neck and shoulder as he inhales once, twice, and lifts his head to bite into flesh.

Hajime thinks about when they were seven or eight and Oikawa dragged him to the cinema, all excited and restless, to see some new sci-fi movie. In Hajime’s opinion, it was pretty bad, but his friend didn’t seem to pay any mind to the shitty special effects or lack of sensible plot, as he chatted in a hushed voice on their way back about extraterrestrial life and how aliens may be similar to them ( _I hope they don’t need to eat humans, though_ , he said back then, _imagine how awkward it’d be for all of us!_ ).

(Pain’s sudden and sharp, but he had worse, so even if it requires all his self-control not to jerk away, Hajime stays still.)

He also remembers how after Takeru was born, they went to see him for the first time. Hajime was more nervous than he had let on, but he liked to think his hold of a newborn was trustworthy. He awkwardly rocked Takeru in his arms like he had seen people do in movies before passing him to Oikawa, who watched them visibly unsure of himself. Once in his actual uncle’s arms, Takeru started to cry, making Oikawa fret as Aki and Houtarou couldn’t help but laugh. Normally, Hajime would have made a snarky comment about how the kid was a good judge of character, but the remark died somewhere in his throat when he saw a marvelled expression on his friend’s face as he held his crying nephew – almost like he couldn’t quite believe there’s another, small life in his hands.

(It takes another tool on his self-control not to bring out his kagune despite every fiber in his body telling him so, blasting alarms at the sensation of a gaping hole forming in his shoulder.)

There was that one time when they were in a public library, making their way through some second-hand textbooks – they weren’t attending high school, so they both agreed they could use some occasional self-teaching in the areas that interest them – when Hajime found something that got him trying not to chuckle, and failing. Oikawa shot him a glance across the table where he was alternating between something on outer space and human biology, mouthing, _What’s so funny_ , as he furrowed his brows in confusion. Hajime showed him a picture of a fish, conveniently named _Oikawa_ , feeling strangely smug as his friend’s mouth hanged open for a moment, almost mimicking a fish. Then Oikawa shoved the book back in Hajime’s face, muttering something along the lines, _Wow, Iwa-chan, are you a dork or what_ , unsuccessfully trying to hide his own smile; a soft one, a little crooked, Hajime’s favourite.

(Just after a moment, Hajime feels something wet trail down his back and he thinks it may be blood, but then he realizes it’s cold, and his open wound’s stinging a little, like someone has been rubbing salt into it – Oikawa’s crying is silent, so unlike him, but it grounds Hajime in the present.)

He’s heard it countless times, how ghouls are monsters, incapable of feeling anything other than hunger and the desire to kill; Hajime thinks how much easier this all would be if that was the case, if this overwhelming burden in his chest, making it hard to breathe, coming into conflict with reason, didn’t exist, and yet – he thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way, as flawed and painful as this feeling may be.

…

“I never wanted revenge, not really,” Oikawa confesses quietly miles and days later, curled up on the floor against Hajime’s side, their empty mugs after coffee long forgotten. “I was so angry and hurt, and I just wanted justice – I still do, but I’m not willing to pay any price for it. I guess it’s more that… I just don’t want this to happen again, not to Houtarou and Aki, and Takeru, and you. I don’t want someone important to me to die. I want to be strong enough to take on anyone who dares to hurt people like them – they aren’t doing anything wrong, they’re just living. Is that really so hard to understand?”

Hajime doesn’t say anything to that; he rubs Oikawa’s wrist with his thumb absentmindedly, thinking of how most of his wounds have already healed and how his skin’s looking much better than that day under the bridge.

“If that’s what you want, we should get stronger together,” he says eventually.

He feels Oikawa turn his head to look at him. “And is that what _you_ want?”

Hajime huffs a laugh. “Now that I think about it, it seems our goals weren’t that different from the start.”

“So Aki was right, after all,” Oikawa hums; sounds like he’s smiling. “Communication’s the key.”

“I suppose.”

Somewhere far away, the sound of thunder rips through the quiet of afternoon. It makes Hajime think of flood and fire, of sparks of electricity dancing in the air and across his skin, of things fragile and invincible all the same.

He doesn’t mind when it rains this time.

**Author's Note:**

> i know in canon takeru was born when oikawa and iwaizumi were nine-ish or something, but i needed to play around with this for reasons
> 
> also i hope it's pretty obvious who the senior investigator with ukai was? 
> 
> sorry i made them cry so much in this one, things will get better for them in the future. probably (probably not)
> 
> and one last thing - i'm looking for beta. maybe? i mean, this is prolly full of some grammar mistakes (sorry about that rip) that my tired brain can't filter through today, and i've been thinking about having another pair of eyes read over my stuff before posting, especially someone whose first language is english, so. any volunteers, perhaps?


End file.
